Occasionally, Oakes stopped him, pressing for particular details.

“You were clones? All of you?”

“Yes.”

Oakes could not conceal his delight at this revelation. “Why?”

“Some of us were sure to be lost. Cloning was a way of improving the project’s chances of success. The best people were selected . . . each group had more data.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Moonbase directives defined clones as property. You . . . could do things to clones that you couldn’t do to Natural Natals, the naturally born humans.”

Oakes ruminated on this for a moment while a slow smile crept over his face. Then: “Do continue.”

Thomas obeyed, wondering what it was that Oakes found so satisfying.

Presently, Oakes raised a hand to stop the recital. Small details were not of pressing interest. The broad picture carried the messages he wanted. Clones were property. There was precedent for this. And now, he knew the name behind those significant initials: MH—Morgan Hempstead! He decided to press for any other weaknesses in this Raja Thomas.

“You say Raja is a family name. Are you, ahhhh, related to the Raja Flattery mentioned in what passes for our history?”

“Distantly.”

And Thomas thought: That’s true. We’re related distantly in time. Once there was a man called Raja Flattery . . . but that was another eon.

Already, he felt himself firmly seated in the identity of Raja Thomas. In some ways, the role suited him better than that of Flattery.

I was always the doubter. My failures were failures of doubt. I may be Ship’s “living challenge” but the means are mine.

Oakes cleared his throat. “I found this a most edifying and gratifying exchange.”

Once more, Thomas stood. He did not like this man’s attitude, the feeling that people were only valuable in terms of their usefulness to Morgan Oakes.

Morgan. He has to be a Hempstead clone. Has to be!

“I’ll be leaving now,” Thomas said.

Was that challenge enough? He studied Oakes for a negative response. Oakes was merely amused.

“Yes, Raja Lon Thomas. Go. Pandora will welcome you. Perhaps you’ll survive that welcome . . . for a time.”

Not until much later when he was standing in the shipbay waiting to board the groundside lighter did Thomas pause to wonder at where and how Oakes had obtained those sybaritic furnishings for his expanded cubby.

From Ship?

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The mind falls, the will drives on.

—Kerro Panille, The Collected Poems

PANILLE EMERGED from Ferry’s office dazed and fearfully excited.

Groundside!

He knew what Hali thought of old Ferry—a bumbling fool, but there had been something else in the old man. Ferry had seemed sly and vindictive, consumed by unresolved hostilities. Even so, there was no evading his message.

I’m going groundside!